Kate annoying anyone.
“He’ll be back soon, I’m sure,” Lauren said. “Your food will be right out.”
“Thanks.”
She started back toward the kitchen, but he stopped her.
“So,” he said. “What’s the buzz on what happened in New York?”
“I don’t know anything about that.”
“Come on,” he said. “I’m sure Kate told you that I’m working for Franklin. That I’m kind of a detective. How am I going to figure anything out if I don’t ask and you don’t tell?”
“Kate said you were working for Franklin’s wife. Something about her mother.”
Jeez, word got around quick. He wondered what other gossip Franklin had let drop in the past two days.
“Well, you never know what might be related,” he said.
“I honestly don’t know anything except what’s been said on the news.”
“Has Franklin been acting strange lately?”
“Nothing more than usual. A few arguments with Kate, but that happens all the time when you have co-owners. There’s always restaurant drama. I hate this place.”
“Well, listen, if you hear anything, give me a call. I like drama.” Donne dropped his old business card on the table. Other than the location of his now-defunct office, the information was up to date.
She picked it up and said, “Let me get your sandwich.”
The front door opened and Carter stepped inside. He was soaking wet and looked pale. He made eye contact with Donne. Donne didn’t think it was possible, but Carter went even more white.
“Hi, Franklin,” Donne said. “I was hoping we could talk.”
“More talk is the last thing I need,” he said.
***
Carlos took the gun down to the alleyway across the street from Rutt’s. Now that the rain had stopped, he could finally get outside to try the thing. The cars from Route 3 would be loud enough to cover the sounds of the gun, he thought. He wanted to fire it in the alleyway, just to see what it was like. That would be so fucking gangsta.
He stood like they did in the movies. The bad guys, not the cops, relaxed with the gun held sideways, and leanin’ back like Fat Joe in that video. He pulled the trigger and the thing went off. It sounded like thunder, and his ears were ringing. The recoil from the gun knocked him on his ass. He didn’t expect that.
It was fucking cool, though. Too bad school was out. “What the hell was that?” he heard someone yell.
Shit. Route 3 was nowhere near as loud as he needed it to be. He shoved the gun into the waistband of his jeans and ran up Delawanna.
Franklin Carter rubbed his face in his hands. He sat across from Donne and refused to make eye contact. Droplets of water soaked into his shirt at the shoulders, and his hair was matted down from the rain.
He took a deep breath, bit his lip, and said, “I thought you were dealing with your mother. That’s what I’m paying you for.”
“I want to know what happened in the city.”
“What’s there to know? A truck pulled up and blew up. Now there’s nothing. But no one got hurt. That’s what happened.”
“Who did it?”
He finally met Donne’s eyes. But Carter looked at Donne like Donne was an idiot. “Terrorists? Someone deranged? I don’t know.”
Lauren came out of the kitchen with the steak sandwich and placed it, a bottle of ketchup, and a glass of iced tea in front of Donne. He took a sip of the tea.
“The FBI said it’s not terrorists. And it seems very interesting that someone ‘deranged’ picked your restaurant to blow up. At three in the morning. When no one could get hurt.”
“Deranged people are called deranged for a reason.”
Donne took a bite of the steak sandwich. Better off taking his time and letting Carter sweat. He appeared shaken up and angry. That wasn’t like the Carter he knew. Then again, his restaurant had just been bombed. That had to be hard to take.
Donne said, “It just seems like a huge coincidence that your restaurant blows up and two of my relatives are murdered.”
“Susan told me they were dead. Nothing else. She was too upset. What happened?”
Donne told him the story, and Carter noticed the bruise on Donne’s head from the gun. As Donne finished the story, Carter buried his head in his hands.
“Can you leave, please?” he asked. “I’d like to finish my sand—”
“Get out!”
Donne put the sandwich down, fixing the silverware into the perfect place setting. He took a twenty out of his wallet and left it on the table. Carter said nothing during the process. Donne stood up and left the restaurant.
Outside the rain had stopped, and he walked to his car slowly. There was no hurry. He wanted to mull over what had just happened.
It could be that Carter was just having a bad day. At the same time, Donne’s instinct was telling him otherwise. Carter knew something. He knew why people were dying. And though they hadn’t spoken much, Donne remembered that Carter had been the rock for his sister at tough times. When Donne had gone into rehab. When Jeanne died.
Suddenly, it all came flooding back. Right there in the middle of Church Street, Donne almost passed out. He realized he hadn’t thought of Jeanne in days.
They’d been separated for a few months, Donne and Jeanne.
Who she slept with in that time was her business. But his old partner? Finding that out only months ago had been like going through her death all over again. The short time they had when they got back together was tainted.
And then she got in the car that night.
What it must have been like, watching the headlights careening across the double yellow line toward her car. The drunk driver who left the scene of the crime never to be heard from again, empty bottles of scotch on the floor of the car the only clue to his state of mind. She died, and he couldn’t be there to save her. He’d changed his life for her. And in an instant she was gone.
He got to his car and took a few deep breaths. He needed a drink. Badly.
***
Delshawn Butler’s cell phone rang before he even got out of the park. He looked at the caller ID and picked it up.
“You want the guy you ran into outside the house, you can have him. Beat the shit
